I don’t know if I can keep doing this. It’s like I’m torturing myself. After having reviewed more passages from NYC/S, it is going to haunt me for the rest of my professional career… if I ever have one.
It’s not that the writing is terrible. It is. But I wish it was terrible on the level that you could look at this and laugh and not believe someone wrote something that bad. As it is, I think it’s entirely conceivably for you to read this and believe someone wrote something that bad. It’s a whole other kind of bad. It’s the bad of the bland as well as the incompetent.
You ever watch a movie that you expected to be an okay time-waster, then realize halfway through you’re bored to tears? An action film, for example, which tries to be interesting by having as many gunfights as possible in it. Reb Brown is king of these kinds of films and in fact RoboWar (which I just linked to) is an excellent example. It tries to be a Predator kind of knock off, and the result is utterly bland and uninspiring, fit only for mockery.
Granted that can be a good thing if you like mocking films.
New York City/State is much like this. I tried putting elements of every Cyberpunk film, book, and role-playing game I’d ever seen or read into it. There are times where what is written is passable in terms of “I can’t fail you due to technical mistakes,” but it utterly uninteresting to read.
It’s heavy on the exposition, to say the least. Someone didn’t learn the cardinal rule of “show, don’t tell.” Those are the dullest bits, I suspect. I can’t say for sure because I never finish them. Like I said, it hurts to read this. It hurts because I did it, and I didn’t realize it sucked, even when I was revising it.
Of course there are the usual mistakes as well – heavy adverb and progressive tense use, excessive dialog attribution tags, etc.
Sigh… oh well, might as well get this over with. I found a section blindingly bad with some dialog in it. At least it will be a faster paced kind of bad that way.
New York City/State (from Chapter 9)
After that, Kilroy switched the channel and the television showed computer animated animals talking and joking and bashing each other in gory 3-D. Computer generated cartoons appeared the same as those of old, but were quicker, easier to make, and of a higher quality at a cheaper price. Kilroy watched the rest of this program, frequently chuckling at the sights. The cartoons ended, and Kilroy turned off the television, with the room taking on a strange silence, interrupted only by Tiny’s quiet snoring.
From the bedroom came Needlepoint, still appearing very tired, and garbed in his reflective house robe. He was not wearing his dark sunglasses, so the left camera shudder he called an eye was blatantly visible.
“Watching cartoons, Kilroy?” he said sleepily “I’d never have guessed.”
“Been watching them since I was born.” Kilroy stated. “Never could get enough of them.”
“What about Tiny?” Needlepoint asked, referring to the fact their muscular little partner was still asleep.
Kilroy saw the wall clock showing the time to be 7:00am “Right… OH MY GOD, IT’S A TRUCK, TINY! LOOK OUT!!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Tiny rolled off the couch screaming, trying to move out of the way of the imaginary vehicle. Kilroy laughed heartily, the temptation o his actions probably a result of the cartoons he watched earlier. Needlepoint would only smirk, too tired to find it hilarious, and headed for the kitchen. Todd got up quickly, angrier than he had ever been at his partner before. Had it been a cartoon, Tiny’s face would have been maroon with steam pouring out of the nostrils and ears, while his teeth ground themselves into powder. But when he spoke, it was surprisingly soft.
“Never do that again.”
“No sense of humour.” Kilroy said to himself. Needlepoint returned with a cup of coffee.
“Get your own if you want any.” he didn’t appear to be in the nicest of moods.
“Well hello to you too.” said Kilroy.
“Let’s cut the crap, I’m in no mood for it until I’ve finished my coffee.” he snapped after taking a sip. “We may as well get our game plan set for the day.” He sat on one end of the sofa Tiny had abruptly vacated. Tiny now got up and sat at its other end.
Kilroy began the conversation. “We have to get into Compidor’s computer systems.” This appeared to be the only way to get a fresh lead or find something related to the old ones.
Needlepoint agreed. “We’ll have to hire us a hacker.” These people were not cheep, though. They used the latest in computer hacking devices and it ran into the hundreds of thousands to hire one for a job, one like this would easily be multiplied exponentially, if anyone took it at all.
“I can do it.” Tiny said straightly.
“Shut up, I’m trying to think.” Needlepoint muttered, and then realized what had been said. “You?” he said as if it scoff once he had reached full comprehension. “No offence, Tiny, but you have the I.Q. of a tofu bean.” This term was often used as one of many insults to describe the mentally incompetent.
“Look limey, I may not know a chrom disk from a steering wheel but I can hack.”
Kilroy nodded, “Half our knowledge on the city/state gangs came from Tiny hacking into their computers. He seems to have a knack for it, thinks differently than a normal person.” as he finished the last sentence, he realized too late that he had easily set up Needlepoint for a retaliation.
“So does a tofu bean.”
That’s it. I’m done. I can’t type this crap anymore! Mercy! Have mercy on me! No more!